


Constants, Coefficients, Coordinates

by slotumn



Series: His Majesty and Young Lady [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Age Difference, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crushes, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fantasizing, Lolicon, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Older Man/Younger Woman, Porn with Feelings, Relationship Study, Soft Claude von Riegan, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:54:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29010111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slotumn/pseuds/slotumn
Summary: Companion peace to Libraries, Lilies, (Love) Letters.Ch 1: The mere idea that Lysithea had a crush on King Khalid of Almyra was ridiculous. (13, 33)Ch 2: When his eyes squeezed shut, he still saw Lysithea, in the white sundress from earlier that day. (14, 24)
Relationships: Lysithea von Ordelia/Claude von Riegan
Series: His Majesty and Young Lady [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2055333
Kudos: 7





	1. always ahead (13, 33)

**Author's Note:**

> Or, I find ways to put in angst even in a relatively peaceful AU. But that's mostly just chapters 1 and 2, the rest is just gonna be porn lol. 
> 
> Check out the [Lysiclaude NSFW Bingo](https://twitter.com/lysiclaudensfw?s=09)!  
>   
> [Join the Lysiclaude Discord!](https://discord.gg/GZmtGbw)  
>   
> [My twitter](https://twitter.com/slotumn?s=09)  
> 

The mere idea that Lysithea had a crush on King Khalid of Almyra was ridiculous. 

First of all, he was twenty years older than her. Second of all, he was twenty years older than her. Third, he was old enough to be an uncle and more or less acted the part, with the excessive teasing and candies and piggyback (sometimes wyvern) rides. 

"...Oh, no, no."

And she just had a dream about having sex with him. 

Or rather, she dreamt about _almost_ having sex with him; naked, sitting on his lap, while he was shirtless, and an arm wrapping around her to pull her closer. He had that gentle smile on his face, the one he didn't show to most people, whispering to her to be good, and that there wasn't anything to be scared of, and when she glanced down to see where he was guiding her hand, it was towards his cock—

Then it cut off, because of course, she internally grumbled, _of course_ dreams like that never got to the good part. 

"Ugh..."

Or maybe, the problem was that her mind didn't have anything to reference what having sex with him would be like. 

(Which, on the flip side, meant that she _did_ have a reference for the other things, even if they were in entirely different contexts.)

Lysithea lifted the blanket over her head before slipping her hand down, beneath her nightdress and inside her smallclothes, already damp. When she squeezed her eyes shut, all she could think back to was— 

—Khalid, splashing water at her from the fountains, taking his tunic off after they stumbled in, apparently not having thought of the possibility that her gaze at him would be less than innocent, because he still saw her as nothing but a _child_. 

Khalid, and his big hands fluffing her hair, lifting her up, squishing her cheeks before he kissed her forehead— so affectionate, caring, and so frustratingly _platonic_ , even though what she really wanted was those same hands on her chest and between her legs, stroking her clit and tracing over her entrance with the calloused fingerpads.

Penetration was still intimidating, of course; she couldn't even get one finger inside herself, and there was no way she'd be able to take him anytime soon, but whenever he wore those pants with thin fabric— it showed the outline of his cock, and goddess dammit, she really wished he'd be more discreet around her, so that she could stop _imagining_.

Imagining touching him _there_ , and kissing and licking it like in those erotic novels she read in secret until it spurted out semen— or cum, as the slang term for it was— making his usual laid-back demeanor fall apart, just like herself right now. 

"Mmh...!"

Lysithea spread her legs and kicked her panties down, hips now lifting off the bed as her hands sped up.

If she made him come, satisfied him in a way only an adult could— would he finally stop seeing her as a child?

Would he think of her and feel his heart squeeze painfully, like she did whenever she thought of him?

The realistic answer was, "Not a chance," because Khalid was older and more experienced than her— he must have been with many others before, ones who were so much more mature in ways she couldn't hope to match; not in terms of mentality, not in terms fo technique, and most certainly not in terms of physical appearance. 

And a part of her didn't _want_ anything to change between the two of them. She didn't want to lose her best friend, her mentor, the paradoxical combination of an equal and a role model. 

She didn't want him to stop teasing her and giving her candy and discussing whatever subject they happened to have on their mind, whether that was through letters or while taking a walk through the garden. He treated her differently from the adults he talked and had conferences with, but if that difference was that he gave her a big smile, all the way up to his eyes, instead of a stiff one forced on his lips, then she was fine with it.

Everyone knew the king of Almyra as a schemer with a million tricks up his sleeves, a fearsome tactician playing gambits that always gave him what he wanted one way or another. 

Lysithea knew Khalid as the strange man who taught her Almyran and plucked a lily to place behind her ear within hours of meeting her, for no other reason than he wanted to.

She didn't need anything else.

She did want something else. 

"K-Khalid..."

When she came, she shivered even though it was warm, felt fulfilled and still yearned for more, and fell asleep with her head still full of him. 

\---

When they arrived at the palace, the first thing Lysithea did was hugging him, as tighly as possible, face buried into his chest. 

"My, my, aren't we friendly today," Khalid chuckled, once she let go. "Looking to secure some extra candy?"

"No," she muttered, managing to not snap at the implication of being childish, for that would make her seem even more childish. "I just... really missed you, that's all."

He looked surprised for a split second, before softly replying,

"I missed you, too. I always do."

How unfair it was, that he said those kinds of things without ever thinking of the effects it had on her, that he was an adult and she was a kid, and he'd always have more experience on handling emotions and people compared to her. 

How unfair, that she could never close the ever-constant difference between the two of them, never be able to leap ahead in life and become someone who could walk side by side instead of trailing behind.

But this would pass, she reminded herself. It had to. 

Adults always said that adolescence was a strange time, where emotions ran wild and made one feel things they otherwise wouldn't; when she was older, when she was truly mature, she'd look back on this little episode fondly, maybe even talk about it with Khalid and laugh, because surely, they'd still be special to one another, even if they'd always be in different places in life.

As she watched him turn around and walk away to greet others, she hoped that day would come faster if she pretended she was already there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: lolicon-in-denial Claude, a.k.a. the best Claude


	2. translate, transform(14, 24)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter came out angstier than I thought. Lolicon Claude is powerful like that, I guess.

Khalid figured he must have been pretty pent up, to wake up from a wet dream and get hard again right away, at the age of thirty-four. 

The vision from his dream kept lingering in front of his eyes as he sighed and reached to slip the pajama pants and boxers down to wrap his hand around the base of his cock— not unusual, since it was a quite vivid one. 

And the thing about dreams, he reminded himself, was that they were often nonsensical; sometimes they were indicators of some deeper desires or issues, but other times, they were simply the subconscious mind's equivalent of nonsense gibberish. 

So there was absolutely no need for him to agonize over the fact that Lysithea appeared in it.

He'd surely forget it in the morning, after he finished this round and fell back asleep, he thought, giving a slow but firm stroke up. 

Yet when his eyes squeezed shut, he still saw Lysithea, in the white sundress from earlier that day. She must have worn it because the weather was unusually hot this year, and because she was comfortable enough with him to don such a light, informal garment, with nothing but a pair of white cotton panties underneath. The design of said panties weren't sexy at all— simple, hip-hugging, with a small pink ribbon at the center, plain and appropriate for a girl her age. 

In his dream, she held her dress up with both hands and nervously bit her lips as he slid it down her thin legs. 

The gasp and moan when he kissed down from her bellybutton and began licking at her clit still rang in his ears; if he concentrated, he swore he could feel her soft skin— against the sides of his face as her legs wrapped around his head, on his lips as he removed her dress and kissed up to her chest, nearly flat except for the little bee-sting swells under her nipples. 

Even in the dream, he had known that it was wrong and that it couldn't be real, but in the moment, he hadn't wanted to stop. Not when her fingers tangled through his hair like that, begging, almost enticing enough to make him forget she wasn't prepared for any of this. 

Yet deep inside, some part of him knew it was that exact unreadiness that made him more excited. 

There was no greater gift than such unconditional, innocent trust, after all— the kind where one felt that anything would be okay as long as it was with the object of one's affections; a love as unsullied as it was malleable, like a child. The kind of love where she'd do and endure just about anything, as long as she believed it was for him.

So if afterlives existed, he was definitely going to the one for sinners, for thinking of how pretty she'd look being deflowered by his cock, enduring the initial pain through reassuring kisses and the contrasting pleasure from her nipples and clit. Gradually, her expression would turn into one of ecstasy, voice tinged with anticipation and only the slightest fear as her cunt began squeezing, her small body fully understanding what the act was for, even if she didn't. 

It was a beautiful sight in his dreams, and surely it would be more breathtaking in real life.

But he wasn't that kind of person, Khalid reminded himself, as his hands moved faster. 

He wouldn't ever lay his hands on a young girl like her, wouldn't ever take advantage of a child, so _small_ and _light_ that he could still easily pick her up in his arms and—

"Ah, fuck—"

His hips thrusted up into his fists, his mind clouding over with the vision of fucking Lysithea as her arms desperately clung around her neck. 

"—Lys, _Lysithea...!_ "

It didn't take long form him to finish as he imagined her whimpering and gasping his name with every thrust, both of them in a frenzy, chasing pleasure, and nothing but pleasure. 

"..."

In the aftermath, he laid perfectly still, staring at the ceiling and trying to not think. 

About the fact this was far from the first time he'd fantasized about her, about the fact he'd still have to see her tomorrow, about the fact he wanted nothing more than to lay next to her and feel her warmth at the moment instead of being alone on the large mattress. 

"...Dammit."

What he wouldn't give to have that come true, or to erase all these thoughts from his mind, or at least have someone he could confide in.

How unfair, that after all these years, after the unending betrayals and cynical lessons, he wasn't immune to falling in love with someone so pure, so sweet, and in a completely different place in life from him; becoming more beautiful and precious every year, like a flower bud about to bloom, while he was tattered from pests and covered poison.

Tomorrow, he'd wake up and move on, moving along his own sets of coordinates running parallel to hers, so that they they may never grow apart and never cross.

(But if he could, if this world allowed it, he wouldn't hesitate to change everything so that he could move right alongside her.)


End file.
